Loyal to the Moon

Chapter One - Run.

   Dogblood pounded through the forest, paws churning into the ground. Blood matted the brown mane that coiled around his neck, weighing down his shoulders. Frantically, he glanced back once behind him, the acrid stench of the hound's panting breath hitting his face. Throwing his head away, he continued to run. But his age was slowing him down, staggering his paws. He was not as young as he used to be. But he was still strong. Still running. For his children. For her. For his parents. He could still run for then. But how much longer could he run? How far could he stumble, with this beast snapping at his paws?

   Fear lent speed to his paws, pushing him on, though his breaths were dragging and lactic acid burned through his muscled body. Run, Dogblood. Run for them. 

Run for your life. 
   He had ran his whole life. Ran from responsibility, from fatherhood, from love. Why was he still running? Still running from all those same old things. He slowed a little, paws lessening their great, broad strides. This was his responsibility. Choking on his breathlessness, he ground his paws into the dirt, coming to a scraping stop. He tumbled, slamming hard into the ground. This was his duty as a father. With shaking legs, he pushed himself slowly back to his paws, dragging his body up. And up. And up. His body shook, whiskers twitched. He could hear the pounding paws of the dog coming closer. And closer.

And closer.

    This was it. He lifted his broad head, shimmering mint eyes glimmering in the dusty light of dawn. This was love. This is what he would do for love. He dragged his hind legs up, planting each paw firmly into the ground. He braced his scarred shoulders, lifting his head up high. The dog came hurtling forth, barking, baying, its jaws snapping wildly. Dogblood closed his eyes, turning his chin to the air, feeling his exhausted body begin to collapse. A soft breath escaped him, exhaling as he felt the dog's shadow loom above him.

"Remember me."



    Moonlight cascaded through the dark treetops above, paving glimmering shafts of light through the open clearing. The trees breathed gently, swaying in the low spring winds, cracking and rocking, the lullaby of the woods. The stars watched down upon the land, glittering, untouchable, unobtainable. All was peaceful, as was brimming with peace and harmony. Tranquil. Open. Silent.

And then she started screaming.

   "Ryetail! Ryetail! RYETAIL!"

   "SNOWPHEASANT! I'm right here, you don't have to shout." His humor was not greatly appreciated, as evident by the scathing sneer on her face.

   "I don't know, babe, if you happened to notice, but I'm sort of oh I don't know- gIVING BIRTH?"

   "Well, darling, there's no need to shout at me about it." He forced a smile, pressing his nose tenderly to her head. "Sweetheart, I know its hard, I know you're struggling, but you must stay quiet-" Ryetail broke off, turning his gaze sharply to a shadow that had flickered across the corner of his vision. "Wait here, dear." Dropping low, he stalked silently to the flicker. Through the bushes, he saw the right flank of the patrol waiting.

   "RYETAIL!"

   And then it all broke into chaos. Ryetail threw his head back, seeing the fox burst from the bushes. It slunk around the open expanse of the clearing, sniffing the air cautiously, testing the cats in its presence. The mottled brown tom backed up slowly, guarding his Queen. The patrol edged out, blanketing the open clearing. The vixen smiled. A nasty, mocking snarl. A cub, a dog fox slunk out from behind them, its face terribly scarred. Hackles rose. Growls rumbled. The air crackled with tension, broken only by Snowpheasant's dull whimper of pain. Ryetail watched. And waited. The foxes paced. And waited.

   "Ryetail," Snowpheasant hissed venomously beneath her breath, "you might want to wait all day, but our children do not."

   "Hush."

   "Ryetail." He rolled his eyes, exasperated, biting back a hiss.

   "What."

   "I love you, darling." The tom parted his jaws to declare his own profound passion but the inevitable waits for no man. The fox sprung forth, two sides, two creatures crashing into battle as one. The tom stayed by his Queen, throwing a warning shot to any long russet that threatened to get too close. Not today.

   He had waited too long to be a father.

   With the sound of a shrieking cry of his mind erupting in his ears, he leaped at the dog fox, many of the right flank of the patrol a little more than preoccupied with the vixen. Only he and Frogstrike were left to battle this foe. To protect his Queen. Protect. His. Queen. A yowl unleashed his parted jaws as he lunged for the back of the dog.

  Snowpheasant panted unsteadily, her forehead pressed close to the ground, pushing against its stability with each contraction. She couldn't do this. She wasn't strong enough. Oh, this was a terrible start. What kind of a mother gave birth in the middle of a battle? She gritted her teeth. A Shadowclan mother, that's who, and by god, Snowpheasant was going to get these kittens out of her. Oh-

   Damn this. Ryetail was beginning to struggle, claws rendered useless by the thick fur of the dog fox. He dropped down, skidding beneath the dog fox's belly. He lunged up, sinking in teeth and claws and-

"I can see-"

   The head! Ryetail had to attack the head. Gritting his teeth, he threw himself from the beasts belly, dodging its snapping jaws. Lurching, he latched himself to the creature's maw, "C'mere you little sh-"

   "It- its head's out!"

   Ryetail felt his heart hammering against his chest. A victory call from the patrol behind him, a bark of the vixen. The dog fox shook the mottled ton from his hideous face before scarpering, tail tucked firmly between its legs.

   "Ryetail, if you don't get here this moment- you'll be running away with your tail between your legs too!" He did his best to ignore the snorts of laughter from the patrol behind him. He padded swiftly to her side, careful to conceal the twist of his paw from her. Though, he could not shut out the blistering pain that eminated from it.

   "Come on, darling you can do it, I..."

   Her silver tail fell from her belly, dusted with crimson. She was lapping fiercely at the two small kittens by her side. Her ice blue eyes glimmered up to him for a moment, with that scathing gaze he had come to love.

   "Yes darling. I know I can."

   He leaned across her, nuzzling her temple against his own before bowing his head to his two, mighty sons. The smallest made a gruff little mew, coughing up the fluid still in his lungs.

   "That was quite a bark, kid. I think we'll name you Dogkit, eh?" Snowpheasant smiled softly, nodding her vague, tired approval.

   "And his brother shall be named Marrowkit, for I love him entirely, right down to the marrow of my bones." The two kittens pressed closer to their mother, eager for warmth and milk, caring none for the tender words of their parents above their heads.

   "Dogkit," Ryetail mewed, pressing his nose to the beige forehead of his son, "Marrowkit," his nose touched fleetingly to the heavy white tom's ear. "My sons..."

"This is where your story begins."